With no commander on their head,
To join that party swift he gade:
Although some wounds he’d got before,
To lose the field his heart was sore.
Then all around he was enclos’d,
Behind, before, fiercely oppos’d,
With sword in hand he hew’d his way,
While blood in streams did from him fly.
Ere him down on the field they got,
His head was clove, his body shot,